


Of Love and other Demons

by padme83



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Boys In Love, Canon Gay Relationship, Falling In Love, GGAD - Freeform, Gay, Gay Sex, Grindeldore, Hot Albus Dumbledore, Jamie Campbell Bower - Freeform, Love, M/M, Powerful Albus Dumbledore, Romantic Angst, Romantic Soulmates, Slash, Smut, Soulmates, Top Albus Dumbledore, Wizarding World (Harry Potter), Young Albus Dumbledore, Young Gellert Grindelwald, toby regbo - Freeform, young grindeldore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:40:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25015618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/padme83/pseuds/padme83
Summary: (Albus Dumbledore x Gellert Grindelwald)1. Enchantment2. In your hands3. 3 degrees4. Where do we go from here?5. Skin deep6. Falling7. The night belongs to lovers8. Mirrors9. Like a prayerI try to translate from italian some of my short stories (flashfics and drabbles)
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald
Comments: 10
Kudos: 58





	1. Enchantment

{Year 1899, Godric's Hollow; Albus POV}

_I loved h** against reason, against promise,_

_against peace, against hope, against happiness,_

_against all discouragement that could be._

(Charles Dickens – Great Expectations)

**~ Enchantment ~**

_"First day of love never comes back,_

_a passionate hour's never a wasted one._

_The violin, the poet's hand_

_every thawing heart plays your theme with care."_

_This is how you like to make love._

While the rain beats lightly on the roof and the room is barely illuminated by the faint glow of a candle.

You woke up at the same time, when the ticking of the drops against the glass suddenly became more insistent. There was no need to speak – it's never necessary among you, _never_. You got lost in each other's eyes, _once again_ , and your hands moved in unison, as if they were animated by their own, free, _indomitable_ will. In silence, motionless, fingers intertwined, you surrendered by the call of a slow, gentle, deep kiss – a warm breath dissolved on bare skin, a caress so vivid and intimate that it left you shaken, breathless, incredulous.

_Kiss me, keep kissing me. Don't quit, don't quit, for no reason in the world, don't quit._

Velvety, docile, trembling under your touch, his lips open – they welcome you, _they absolve you_ – and offer themselves with the immediate burst of a rosebud reaching out towards the first morning sun.

_Wait, wait, there's no hurry, it's just us, only us, the world doesn't exist._

You move away a little. His irises shine and even in the dark they chain you. Golden locks swarm on the pillows and frame his white, fine, bright face.

_So beautiful. You're so beautiful._

He looks at you and smiles – he looks for you, he provokes you, he demands you, he doesn't have to ask, he doesn't need it, you are already his.

You touch the silk of his arms, of his elegant shoulders, of his sinuous and perfect neck.

Quiet, sweetness, enchantment. Desire. In the air only the echo of your broken, imprudent sighs.

His ruby mouth is the apple of the Garden of Eden – and Gellert is the Tempting Snake, his coils wrap your body and your senses, you feel them around you, _on you_ , branches of twigs, leaves, sanguineous petals.

His breath. Ocean wave breaking on the rocks, impetuous and magnificent. White foam, brackish breeze. Aphrodite born from the sea.

_You want him._

_You want him madly, intensely._

You move on him, _inside him_ , who is hot and wonderful and he dances with you, he clings to your tense hips, he squeezes you strong, strong, strong between his thighs and _he hurts you_ – oh, God, no, no, _no!_ It isn't true, it's pure pleasure – _immense_ , irrepressible pleasure – it's ferocious drunkenness, otherworldly fire that you feel flowing and roaring in your veins. You are one thing – _now, always_ –, one spirit, one body, _one heart._

The rain falls, falls, thin, it doesn't stop and floods you, it overwhelms you, it protects you, a trusted and discreet witness of your love. It whispers fairy tales of lovers, before you, between the same damp sheets and unmade clothes forgotten in a corner. It tells of sleepless nights, of groans suffocated with fury between the teeth, of happy and crazy lovers like you, bound like you, desperate like you.

_But nobody is like you._

«I love you».

His eyes tied to yours.

«I love you».

As in twin mirrors that are reflected endlessly [1].

_Let's start again, my blue?[2]_

Dawn is still far away.

_"Kiss while your lips are still red,_

_while he's still silent rest_

_while bosom is still untouched, unveiled._

_Hold another hand while the hand's still without a tool,_

_drown into eyes while they're still blind._

_Love while the night still hides the withering dawn."_

[1] Joyce Carol Oates, _My sister, my love._

[2] In my _headcanon_ , Gellert calls Albus _my blue_ (from the poem "My blue", by _Ghiannis Ritsos_ : _My blue - you said - \\\ my blue.\\\ I am.\\\ And even more than the sky.\\\ Wherever you are \\\ I surround you._ ), and Albus calls Gellert _bredhu_ (= brother: from _M.Z.Bradley_ Darkover series).

**NoA:**

Well, this is... an experiment.

I'm trying to traslate from italian some of my short stories (flashfic and drabbles). 

I hope I haven't done a disaster (my english is not so good) ^^'''

See you soon and thanks to the readers 😊

_Soundtrack:_ **While your lips are still red, Nightwish.**

**N.B:** thanks to **Gabriel Garcìa Marquez** for the title and to **Miryel** for the support (I love you dearie) <3

Follow me on [Instagram!](https://www.instagram.com/padme83_efp/?fbclid=IwAR1XhUTNXfYaLCejx80_SNzZnjh3vEFc_R-vxLYiomM7Lj10q8DLr0LpyvU)


	2. In your hands

{Year 1899; Godric's Hollow; Albus and Gellert POV}

_The struggle against desire is difficult,_

_because what it wants buys it at the price of the soul._

(Heraclitus)

**~ In your hands ~**

_"All of my dreams have flown away_

_all of my ambition with the wind – now you're here._

_I never thought I would be satisfied_

_with anything I had, now I'm not so sure._

_I waited so long for you now you're here_

_I don't know what to do with you."_

Prompt: **hands on the skin** (Gellert POV)

__ Contemplation_

_Albus finally leaves his home._

In the shelter of a discreet tent, you observe him, holding your breath, while he calmly and attentively devotes himself to his daily duties. Enchanted, you contemplate the tawny reverberation of his hair, the virile line of the neck, and you are seduced by the exact movements of his hands – elegant, strong hands, which they seem to know no effort, or uncertainty, in offering help to his little sister.

_And you imagine those hands sliding, slow, over every single piece of skin on your body, in your hair, on your back, along your hips, between your thighs, gentle, like the taste of a tear, bold and safe, bewitching. Yours._

You want him.

_God, how much you want him._

Prompt: **hands that are sought without ever touching** (Albus POV)

__ Demons_

_How are his hands?_

You ask yourself that every day, by now. Would you feel them cold on yours – they are white petals stolen from the snows of the North – or would they mark you with the heat of the fire, similar to the flames that invade the belly when you drown your eyes in his?

_You shouldn't allow him to look at you like that, with those ambiguous and transparent eyes, which ignite nerves that you didn't even think you had, and fill your fingers with lust, desire, and mad torment._

Gellert and his hands – _his damned hands_ – challenge you, they tempt you, they seek you, without ever giving in, and invite all your demons to dance.

You want him.

_You want him and, for God, you will do anything just to have him._

Prompt: **fingers on the lips** (Gellert POV)

__ Night song_

«Can't you sleep?»

A blow in your hair. Warm, delicate, intimate.

You try to regulate your breathing, crouching even more against his chest. Albus holds you against him gently, as if his arms had never sought – _desired_ – anything else in life.

You are lying in the dark, embraced, motionless – _but God knows what that broken mattress had to endure, all night long._

«Swear to me you're not a dream, or a shadow».

You open your lips in response to the hungry touch of his fingers, welcoming their caresses with an impatient, _adoring_ moan.

«I'm not», he whispers. «You can feel I'm not».

_Swear it._

_Bredhu ..._

_Swear it!_

_I swear I swear I swear -_

Prompt: **catch a kiss between fingers** (Albus POV)

__ Playground_

His body is warm in your arms, and it smells like the most fragrant and forbidden of the fruit.

You look for his skin, with grueling slowness, and he arches his head back, offering you all of himself; he sighs, his hands clawed to your hair.

«Again».

His voice is a hoarse breath that rises from the throat to the lips and blossoms in a burning, moist, voluptuous kiss: you capture it between your fingers and become intoxicated by it, filled with ferocious desire.

You pounce on his neck and start biting, sucking; beneath you, Gellert sobs and burns and trembles and you tremble too, until your soul is broken.

«Again».

A supplication.

_Again again again –_

Prompt: **hands shaking** (Gellert POV)

__ Slave (part 1)_

_You would like to look at him forever._

Now _you know_ what look the pleasure takes on his face, on his voice, and you wonder if you could ever do without it.

Albus captured your hands and held them in an irresistible, relentless grip, locking them on the sides of your head, and now he seeks your gaze with every push, lunge, gasp.

His eyes are celestial abysses, barely veiled by the tremor that strikes him – _and it strikes you_ – all over his body, and they shine like ardemonium flames.

_Pierce me fill me mark me break me heal me and then make me yours make me yours make me yours again –_

«Mine» he claims on your lips, a moment before liquefying inside you.

«Yours».

A promise.

_Yours yours yours –_

Prompt: **velvet hands** (Albus POV)

__ Slave (part 2)_

_You fall._

To surrender to Gellert is like falling, drowning in a warm, deep, enveloping sea.

His hands are velvet on the skin, they slowly walk the wide curve of your shoulders, while he draws you towards him – _more, give me more_ – between a languid sigh and a barely whispered prayer.

«Come here, Albus, come here. Hold me».

He has a conscious and feline sensuality that he shows off without fear, without pity; he chains your gaze to his and arches under you with a fluid, decisive and sinuous movement, pressing his calves against your buttocks to gently welcome you on him, _inside him_.

«Stay with me».

An order.

Imperious.

Unavoidable.

You tremble.

_Until the end, bredhu._

_"I went hunting for love_

_when I thought I'd lose._

_I meant to shoot down a dove,_

_shot an angel instead._

_And now she wakes up every day_

_and she invites all of my demons to play."_

Prompt: **blood pact** (Albus and Gellert POV)

__ Blood Pact_

_hot_

_the Blood is hot_

_overflows from our hands_

_we wait we listen the Magic break in_

_it is not magic is Life is a promise an oath a Pact_

_fingers tighten and we shine like stars we burn more than fire we seek each other_

_we are two we are one we are the same there is no difference division conflict between us_

_we breathe we find each other our eyes shine we are beautiful perfect complete we are invincible_

_we touch each other we devour each other our lips are honey our breath is sea breeze we don't speak_

_we feel the skin and the heart gone mad and the thoughts that flow_

_and we sink we merge we welcome each other_

_we welcome everything we welcome everyone_

_we welcome you_

_come with us [1]_

[1] Guillermo del Toro, Daniel Kraus, _The Shape of Water_

**NoA:**

I wrote this seven drabbles last summer, for a fb "hands" challenge.

I hope you enjoyed this short stories, if you like, leave me a kudos ^^

Thanks to all!

_Soundtrack:_ **Demons, Empathy Test; Blood Pact, James Newton Howard - Fantastic Beasts: The crimes of Grindelwald OST.**


	3. 3 degrees

{Year 1912; Edinburgh; Gellert POV}

_Fearless hearts love the heart of the night._

(Luther Blisset – Q)

**~ 3 degrees ~**

_"Con le mani tra i capelli_ _  
e la pelle che si tocca,  
fumo bianco dalla bocca  
dammi ancora le tue labbra,_  
_quella notte non finiva mai,_ _  
no, no, no, no."_

«Where do we go?»

You ask him panting, your mouth stuck to him, your hands buried in his ruffled hair.

Around you the darkness is thick, oppressive; the damp air freezes the bones and the sleeping city encloses you in a ghostly embrace, black of fog and soot. Everything appears smoky, gloomy, without defined shapes.

_It almost seems like a dream._

It's cold tonight, it's cursed cold but you don't realize it – his body, crushed against yours, burns and trembles and seethes like the fiery heart of a furnace.

_Albus._

You knew it would end like this (it _always_ endslike this between you two).

«There's no need to go anywhere», he replies, seraphic, without stopping a single moment of tormenting your cheeks and chin; you keep your eyes closed – your head thrown back, your throat exposed to his fierce kisses – but you clearly feel his warm lips pursing and tending in a sly, wolfish, _perfidious_ grin.

«What's on your brilliant mind this time?»

Albus don't waste time answering. He grabs your buttocks and lifts you off the ground, pushing you by force against a wall. You cling to him, crossing your calves and ankles at the base of his back; you clutch to his shoulders and begin to lick his neck, you torture its sinuous curve in large bites, while his nimble fingers are already running to slip between the slots of your pants.

You let out a low, frustrated wheeze.

_Are you a magician or what? Come on, make them disappear!_

He laughs.

The impudent laughs _loudly_.

You suddenly tighten the thighs around his hips, stealing from him a hoarse groan that he immediately tries to suffocate and hide.

Albus and his fucking pride.

Again, he looks for you, he catches your tongue between his teeth and sucks, _sucks for God_ , he sucks as if he wanted to tear your soul away from your chest.

_As you wish, my Lady._

The movement is barely perceivable – _he certainly doesn't need a wand for such stupid thing_. You hold your breath, savoring every gasp, every wet sigh, every shiver that radiates from the belly and furiously climbs along the backbone.

Now nothing remains to divide you from him.

His skin on yours is liquid fire, dissolved silk, melted glass. It's the red-hot core of the Sun.

_More, give me more, give me more._

His excitement – _your excitement_ – is a stormy ocean, a swirling and wild current, an active volcano about to explode.

_More, more, oh, more –_

«You're right», you finally whisperer, with a broken voice, a moment before you feel him sink gently, totally, inexorably in you _– don't make me wait, don't make me wait, don't make me wait –_

«There's no need to go anywhere».

_"3 gradi sembravano 20_  
_3 gradi sulle scale, i vestiti fra i denti,_  
_fuori con la luna piena sulla testa,_ _  
3 gradi e basta.  
3 gradi sembravano 100_  
_come brucia il tempo quando ci sei dentro,_  
_ancora non mi passa,_ _  
3 gradi e basta."[1]_

[1] _With my hands in your hair and the skin you touch, white smoke from the mouth, give me your lips again, that night never ended, no, no, no, no. \\\ 3 degrees seemed 20, 3 degrees on the stairs, clothes between teeth, out with the full moon on our head,_ _3 degrees and that's it. 3 degrees seemed 100, how time burns when you're in it, it still does not pass me, 3 degrees and that's it._

**NoA:**

Hi everyone! The third chapter is here!

Did you like it?

But over all, do you understand my english? ^^'

Thanks to all the readers, bye 😊 

_Soundtrack_ : **3 gradi, Diego Conti.**

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	4. Where do we go from here?

{Year 1899; Godric’s Hollow; Albus POV}

Prompt: **secretly kissing**

_Finalmente mi hai baciato._  
_Vado a dormire con il cielo in bocca._

_You finally kissed me._ _I go to sleep with the sky in my mouth._

(Franco Arminio – L’infinito senza farci caso)

**~ Where do we go from here? ~**

  
  
  
  
  
  


_“There's no place to call our own,_  
_like a drifting haze we roam.”_

There are moments in which you seem to go crazy if he is not next to you, damned moments in which your breath is lost in the throat at the thought of having to wait hours – or maybe years? Centuries? _Millennia?_ – before you can hold him in your arms again.

During the day you and Gellert are forced to keep your distance, even if it’s difficult – _almost_ _impossible_ – to try to hide, to mask, to harness the uncontrolled craving that tortures your fingers, the _fierce_ tremor that shakes your lips, still wet with kisses, the chills in the belly when your eyes meet, after looking for each other for a long time, without respite, without shame.

_Hopeless._

«They're just kids, what do you want them to understand?»

He repeats it, _always_ , breaking the quiet of your meetings, fleeting intervals that you can snatch from a restricted, oppressive, _mortifying_ daily life, definetly complicated to manage – _and too much, too painful to bear._

«That's not the point. And even if it were, they were entrusted to me. I can't leave them alone.»

_You're already doing it._

That look…

_Gellert never judges._

_Gellert shows no mercy._

You don't answer – you don't need it, there's nothing to add – you draw him to yourself and focus on _other things_ , on the small – precious, _immense_ – details that your sharpened mind collects, analyzes and then seals, _down there_ , inside the deeper, darker and more secret lapels of your soul. The reverberation of the starry sky that is reflected in his liquid irises, burning with desire; the placid whisper of the wind in the trees; the warmth of his body, pressed against yours; the subdued and distant singing of an owl; the sparkle of a mother-of-pearl button, the sensation of silk under the sweaty fingertips, while, with exhausting slowness, you both free yourself from the clumsy shirts; the scent of fresh grass and ground, which mixes with yours, and a little stuns; the low murmur of his voice – _please, my blue, please_ – a poignant and sweet song capable of knotting the stomach, clawing the chest and reaching straight to the heart; his hands that sink into your hair, cling to the strained shoulders, glide slowly along the shoulder blades and lastly reach the hips, which they touch and caress and imprison in a red-hot, relentless grip.

_A spasm of pleasure, a sigh filled with ecstasy._

_A need so strong and desperate as to leave bruises._

Time expands and contracts - for you and for him, only, _exclusively_ for you and for him – every moment contains an intense and vibrant light – _a light_ _cruel and blinding_ – a remnant of infinity, a bright spark of eternity.

_His skin and his mouth against yours._

_Finally._

_“Where do we go from here?_  
_Where do we go from here?  
How do you fly with no wings?  
How do you breathe without dreams?  
Where do we go from here?”_

**NoA:**

Hi everyone!

I’m back with a new little tale ^^

I hope that you like it <3

See you soon!

_Soundtrack:_ **Where do we go from here, Ruelle.**

Follow me on **[Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/padme83_efp/?fbclid=IwAR1ZXCF4_ew4ZVlYhB6zCIhuZyBieEfq1ar9iE0iLqumCt4LSSBPZiYz3C8)!**


	5. Skin deep

{Year 1899; Godric’s Hollow; Gellert POV}

Prompt: **an almost-kiss.**

[Soulbond!AU; pre-slash]

_I crossed the oceans of Time to find you._

(Francis Ford Coppola – Bram Stoker’s Dracula, film 1992)

_~ Skin deep ~_

  
  
  
  
  
  


_“_ _Once I traveled seven seas to find my love,_  
_and once I sang seven hundred songs._ _  
Well, maybe I still have to walk_  
_seven thousand miles_  
_until I find the one that I belong._ _”_

«Finally».

You flaunt an indolent nonchalance, your eyes fixed in front of you, touching almost with devotion the large wall covered from top to bottom with dark mahogany and books. The library – impressive and ancient, austere and well-stocked – is the only room in your aunt's house that can exert an irresistible charm on you.

You feel Albus's gaze pinching the back of your neck, and you don't have any difficulties imagining the dark frown that _surely_ overshadows his handsome face, the frustrated and annoyed grimace that _inevitably_ distorts the soft curve of his smile.

«I was only able to free myself now. Ariana didn't want to sleep peacefully, and Aberforth… it's Aberforth. He never misses the opportunity to make himself unbearable».

He approaches you with nervous steps, disappointed by your cheeky indifference. Indeed, you are as discontented and angry as he is, but you have no intention of turning around – _not yet, at least_.

«It doesn't matter, I still managed to find some interesting information. _Alone_ » – you want to underline it.

You begin to climb up a small, shabby and wobbly staircase, in a unwary attempt to take two dusty volumes from the top shelf of the library. You could use the wand, of course; however, for who knows what absurd reason, you feel the urgent need to move, _to show yourself_ , and to complete this simple operation without magic.

«How old do you think this staircase is, maybe three hundred years?»

«Even more, I guess. And I think your aunt expects you treat it with due respect».

_It's a moment_.

An imperceptible distraction – _a laugh that barely blooms on the lips_ –, one foot wrong, and the collision with the floor which, however, doesn’t happen.

_But it's certainly not a spell that keeps you from falling._

__You gasp, swallowing hot bubbles of air, your voice stuck in your throat, your skin suddenly sensitive _to everything_ and filled with hot, overwhelming shivers.

You lift your eyelids – _slowly, slowly_ – and you are there, _right there_ , held in his arms – _where every night you dream of being_.

Motionless, Albus envelops you, supports you – delicate as a feather, burning more than fire – and he looks at you until he digs a hole in your soul.

For a moment you are tempted by the mad desire to turn your head, and surprise his mouth just close to yours, but _something_ is holding you back. A bright, dazzling star blazes up in his magnetic, crystalline irises, tinted with the blue of a clear summer sky. Somewhere, in the most intimate and secret depths of your body, a subtle vibration _responds_ , and it’s intense and shocking and new - _yet unmistakable, pervasive, known_. It comes and goes, similar to a flutter of captive wings, so short and fleeting that you can hardly be sure that you have really perceived it.

_No, no. The truth is that you have no doubts._

_Now you know._

When, after interminable minutes, Albus gently places you on the ground, a single thought crosses your mind, quick as lightning, terrible and wonderful at the same time.

_It’s you, it's you, it's you._

_I finally found you._

_“Once I crossed seven rivers to find my love,_  
_and once for seven years I forgot my name.  
Well, if I have to, I will die_  
_seven deaths just to lie_  
_in the arms of my eversleeping aim._  


_I will rest my head side by side  
to the one that stays in the night,  
I will lose my breath in my last words of sorrow.  
_ _And whatever comes will come soon,_ __  
_dying I will pray to the moon_ _  
_ _that there once will be a better tomorrow._ _”_

**NoA:**

Hi!

This tale is inspired by ep. 12 season 1 of _Once upon a time_ , “Skin deep”, with Belle and Rumplestiltskin ^^

Did you enjoy it? I hope that <3

Bye!

_Soundtrack:_ **Eversleeping, Xandria.**

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	6. Falling

{Year 1899; Godric’s Hollow; Albus POV}

_Non so se l’ho già detto_  
_ma amavo il suo corpo_ _  
come ho amato poche cose al mondo.  
Le mie mani a un certo punto  
lo seppero a memoria quel corpo lì.  
Avevo sviluppato  
una sorta di dipendenza tattile  
per il suo corpo.*_  
(Guido Catalano – Se questa fosse una poesia)

_~ Falling ~_

  
  
  
  
  
  


_“_ _Don't let yourself be hurt this time_  
_then your kiss so soft_  
_then your touch so warm._ _”_

_You would stay like this forever._

Sucked between thighs that won't let you go, that tighten with violence around your pelvis, that capture you and chain you and hold you back – _more, more, more_ – causing you a shiver that rises and expands from your bowels, that contracts and explodes – it clouds the mind, pierces the bones, _breaks the heart_.

Perhaps, you reflect, the secret is in _contact_ : in _feeling_ his soft skin quiver and burn under your hands, in _savoring_ his moist lips, which you torment with cheeky, greedy, incorrect kisses, in _becoming intoxicated_ by his spicy and intense perfume, fused to yours with alchemical precision, in an irresistible combination that speaks of communion, of belonging, in _contemplating_ his mysterious, veiled eyes, full of emotions that seem to carry him miles and miles away from you – _and yet_ he's present, passionate, pulsating with flesh and blood as he eagerly clings to your shoulders –, in _listening_ to his low, hoarse moans which you collect directly from his mouth and which you are not – _you will never be_ – satisfied.

Sighs, Gellert, he gasps and arches under you, his belly tense and shaken by spasms of furious agony; he loosens his grip to find his breath and then looks for you again – he wants you, _he claims you_ –, he encloses your hips in a feverish, relentless, almost painful grip, which crumbles even the last glimmer of your rationality and pushes you to increase the reach of your lunges.

The world around you and him flares up, reality and dreams are confused, they are transfigured into unknown, _impossible_ shapes and colors, bright stars are born and shine and are consumed in an instant that holds precious fragments of infinity. Time bows before you, slows down its course until it stops, it crystallizes, wraps itself around itself, spreads out like a white mantle above you two. Eternity is _here_ , in this unmade bed, inside him – a dark and magnificent creature –, in his arms that are silk and velvet laces, in the gazes that cancel senseless boundaries, break down barriers and touch the souls, on yours naked bodies that smell, desire, recognize each other – in every curve, valley or marvelous imperfection – dissolve and finally recompose one through the desperate need of the other.

It’s a disruptive energy, a primordial spell that takes possession of both of you and makes you move and dance together, without respite, without shame – _without mercy_. The sound of his voice rises and joins yours in a muffled cry, which you can hardly perceive, as if it came from a great distance, from _another_ universe. The candles flicker and go out, the darkness envelops and protects you, while all the fiery fury of your young lives pervades both of you, shakes you and erupts in your womb, as the culmination and seal of a longed-for, overwhelming pleasure that climbs fiercely along the spine and is destined not to fade.

You gasp – _again, again and again_ –, you abandon yourself to him, panting, you hold him tight, strong, you drown your face in the hollow of his neck and caress his smooth abdomen, you fill the silence that surrounds you by murmuring his name countless times. He runs his fingers through your hair and kisses your outstretched forehead with immense, surprising – and yet natural, sincere, _just_ – tenderness.

Slowly, gently, the tremor subsides, the fire in the veins fades – but not its warmth, _oh no, no, God, no!_ The heat remains, like a flame that flickers and sparkles in the darkness, vermilion and terrible and splendid; you lean your head gently against his chest, and you let yourself be lulled by the regular rhythm of his breathing.

Only a few minutes to dawn.

«I love you.»

No uncertainty in tone, in words, in thoughts – _he chose_.

Now he waits for you.

You don't hesitate.

«Me too» you whisper – you pray promise swear, your mouth pressed to his heart – _you have chosen_.

«I love you too.»

_“_ _The stars still shine bright_  
_the mountains still high._  
_Yet something is different_  
_are we falling in love?_ _”_

* _I don't know if I've already said that_

_but I loved h** body_

_as I have loved few things in the world._

_My hands at some point_

_they knew that body by heart._

_I had developed_

_a kind of tactile addiction_

_for h** body._

_(my translation)_

**NoA:**

Hi everyone!

Well, I'm not very sure about this translation.

If you don't understand something, please let me know.

However, thanks to all the readers <3

Bye!

_Soundtrack:_ **Falling, Angelo Badalamenti (Twin Peaks OST).**

Follow me on **[Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/padme83_efp/?fbclid=IwAR0ki7DwdAkWXmn5rGhfp5NXfTw6ODCc5OotxFYei-vfxPyv14xSqQSvm5w)**!


	7. The night belongs to lovers

{Year 1899; Godric’s Hollow; Gellert POV}

_Your hair is winter fire,_

_January embers._

_My heart burns there, too._

(Stephen King - IT)

_~ The night belongs to lovers ~_

  
  
  
  
  
  


_“Take me now, baby, here as I am,_ _  
pull me close, try and understand.  
Desire is hunger is the fire I breathe,  
love is a banquet on which we feed._  
_Come on now try and understand_ _  
the way I feel when I'm in your hands.  
Take my hand come undercover,  
they can't hurt you now,  
can't hurt you now,_  
_can't hurt you now.”_

_I'm coming._

His voice echoes clear in your mind, similar to the vibrating toll of an ancient silver bell.

You smile in spite of yourself, relaxing your numb muscles as you distractedly watch the clouds above Godric's Hollow thicken and quickly darken.

The breeze coming in from the dormer window is crisp and saturated with humidity, and suggests the advent of a great storm before nightfall.

Albus materializes in the exact center of the room, covered by a veil of purple dust; he advances towards you with firm steps, without hesitation, the bold and proud bearing, the ultramarine irises illuminated by relief – _by joy?_ – to finally _be here_ , next to you.

_Don’t say a word._

_I'm sorry, I had to ..._

_Don’t. Say. A. Word._

He joins you and sits by your side, in the window recess, raising his head upwards and staring with detachment at the blanket of clouds that looms threateningly beyond the profile of the trees. He whistles a meaningless tune, with an absorbed, imperturbable, _unattainable_ expression on his beautiful face. After all, you think, he really knows you too well to take offense _seriously_ – there’s an intimate and mutual acquaintance between you and him, and you too know that now he’ll enjoy pretending to pay you back with the same indifference, at least for a while.

You stay in silence, motionless, watching the minutes vanish into nothingness, getting lost in the hiss of the wind and the rustle of the rain that begins to pour impetuously on the roof.

Suddenly, with a movement that seems very slow to you – but it’s in the blink of an eye that _everything_ is consumed – Albus turns, raises a hand and takes hold of a lock of your hair; he caresses them for a long time, gently brushing them and carefully intertwining them between his fingers. He’s so close that you feel his body heat and his scent – _the scent of tea, sun and white roses_ – a scent so vivid and intoxicating that you can't resist it in any way.

You hold your breath, barely repressing a sigh, because there’s nothing but delicacy in his play, and wonder, and tender amazement, as if the most precious silk, the softest wool, the purer gold flowed between his fingers.

He moves his hand away a little and goes down slowly, from the nape to the neck, calmly caresses your sensitive skin, almost with devotion, and the burning touch of his fingertips sends powerful electric shocks to your lower belly. Your thoughts wander, disconnected, suddenly filled with clear, intense, even violent images – images of you, _of him_ , below, above and _everywhere_ around you.

You gasp, pervaded by an immediate, ferocious excitement, impossible to control or hide. Albus grabs you by the arms and draws you to him, dragging you to the floor; he sits and leans his back against the wall, his nails clawed at your hips, his gaze already blurred, liquid, lost in yours. _It’s no longer the time for kindness now_. His eyes, burning like sparks of fire, shine and in darkness they pierce you, skin you, suck you – they speak, sing, _scream_ – _I want you, I want you, I want you_ –

You obey his silent command, you undress quickly and you stop to admire him, ecstatic, while in turn he gets rid of every single layer of cloth that still insists on interposing between you and his skin.

You spread your legs and fall on him, you surround his pelvis and squeeze him furiously between your thighs – and the hoarse breath you manage to tear from his lips is a sublime melody that you can hear echoing right into your bones. You lean over his face and take hold of his moist mouth, you force it to open in response to your greedy, _desperate_ assaults, you bite him _and get bitten_ , mixing your blood with his.

_If you want me then take me, don't wait. Penetrate me, tear me apart, plant roots of steel in me, dig me in the bowels, in my deepest abysses and fill me up to make me burst._

An opal flash tears the dense half-light that surrounds you and, for an instant, its light sprinkles with blue the pallor of your diaphanous, sweaty bodies, crucified on each other.

Albus captures your hands, tying them to his, then safely arches against you and sinks between your buttocks with a single push. You close your eyes, your head thrown back, your abdomen exposed to his hot kisses, and you abandon yourself to him, you consecrate yourself to the pleasure of a rite that, each time, both of you are called to venerate and celebrate _together – vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque amemus[1]_. You cling to his shoulders and offer him all of yourself, following the crazy desire, the primal urgency, _the excruciating need_ of his movements.

_My_

_Tell me that you are mine_

_Only mine_

_Your_

_I'm yours_

_Only yours_

_Say it again_

Both of your breaths merge and break in the rarefied darkness of twilight – _don't stop, please, don't stop, don't stop_ –

The world out there disappears in the roar of the storm and finally dissolves into darkness, accompanied by a final, terrifying, _glorious_ rumble of thunder – _stay with me, don't go, don't go, stay with me_ –

The night for you two has just begun.

_“Because the night belongs to lovers,_  
_because the night belongs to lust._ _  
Because the night belongs to lovers,  
because the night belongs to us.”_

[1] Catullo, _Carme V_.

**NoA:**

Hi!

I hope you enjoyed this little story.

Help me improve, if you don't understand something, please let me know.

Thanks to all the readers and for all the kudos <3

Bye!

_Soundtrack:_ **Because the night, Patti Smith.**

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	8. Mirrors

{Year 1899; Godric’s Hollow; Albus POV}

_Everything is there. The thousands of reflections_ _  
left by your face among the twilights  
of dawn and evening in the mirrors  
and those who will continue to leave. _

(Jorge Louis Borges)

_~ Mirrors ~_

  
  
  
  
  
  


_“We are forever as one in what remains,_   
_you're in my blood from the cradle to the grave._   
_I don't like to think about the pieces or the cracks_   
_and the breaks that still remain._   
_If I could breathe, I'd ask you…”_

There’s a mirror in your mother's room.

It’s ancient and massive, a wedding gift from a distant relative. A dark and worn cloth partially covers it; when you decide to remove it, an impalpable cloud of dust rises in the air – after all, Kendra had long since done without its help, in the morning, to tame her long black hair and adjust her corset.

You take a few minutes – a brief interlude of tranquility – and carefully observe your reflection: you seem to have changed, and a lot, in the last few months, but it’s certainly not the broader shoulders and the carved abdomen to suggest it, nor the dark shadows that crown the lids, or the sharp, hard line of the chin.

_Something_ ignited, in your gaze, a new and indefinable _spark_ – yet vivid, intense, _shining_.

You smile. A small purplish spot peeps out from the neckline of the shirt – _another sign, an eloquent proof._

_A mark._

«What are you doing? Do you admire how beautiful you are?»

_Finally._

You don't turn around – it's not necessary, he's already behind you. Your eyes meet his, amber, aquamarine and turquoise gems that the imperfect surface of the glass still fails to deprive of their limpid brilliance.

«What do you think?»

«Not bad, but you know that I prefer you undressed».

« _Herr Grindelwald_ , so you make me blush».

_Oh yes? Are you still capable of it? Good to know._

_Don't count on it._

You draw him to you and steal a kiss from him – a deep and greedy, slow and desperate kiss – then you wrap him in your arms, inviting him to lean his back against your chest. You bite his neck, gently, without stopping for a single moment to take pleasure in the beauty of your bodies intertwined, replicated in the mirror and also there united, _indivisible_.

_Open your eyes. Keep them open. Look, look what a huge miracle we can be together._

You feel his skin quiver near your mouth, and its call is irresistible. You touch the sensitive arch of his collarbone with your tongue, barely fondling it – you will be able, later _(soon)_ , to return the favor with due care.

«There are various types of magic mirrors in the world,» he murmurs softly, his voice reduced to a low, hoarse gurgling, «mirrors created to answer any question, whether it concerns the past, present or future, pervaded mirrors from spells so powerful and complex as to show to those who question them unknown, even _unknowable_ , universes, mirrors filled of truth and mysteries so impenetrable as to be beyond any human understanding».

«Really?» you whisper on his lips, simulating with amusement a candid amazement.

A wet sigh escapes him – _oh come on, are you kidding?_ – you pick it up on the fly and immediately its flavor invades you, intoxicates you, fills your throat with boiling honey.

You take advantage of his momentary – _apparent?_ – distraction to slip your hands under the austere blouse he still wears – _take it off, my blue, please take it off_ – you caress his belly with light touches, drawing tiny circles around the navel, follow the tense and defined furrows of the muscles, starting from the hips up to the sinuous curve of the groin, and meanwhile, in silence, you listen to him.

«Others seem to be able to dig deep into a man's soul, to reveal his hidden needs, his darkest and most secret desires».

_Because they don’t reflect the face, but the heart._

«Have you seen one?»

«No, but I know it exists, somewhere».

_Do you ever think about it? What could you see in that mirror?_

You hesitate. The warm twilight light filters through the window and pours on his tousled hair; silky waves branch out beyond your shoulders, where his beautiful head rests quietly, framed by gushing waterfalls of molten and pure gold.

You go back to staring at the mirror. Again – _always_ –, you find his glowing irises waiting for you and welcoming you.

_This, bredhu._

You lean over him and look for his hands, you capture them, you squeeze them tightly in yours – you kiss them, you taste them, _you worship them_.

The intertwining of your and his fingers is a steel cord, a hard and invincible chain, _a knot of blood_ – and bones, and flesh – impossible to loosen.

_I would see nothing but this._

_“… To look in my mercy mirror_   
_I need you more than I have known._   
_To look in my mercy mirror_   
_'cause I'm not ready to let you go._   
_Now I know, now I know_   
_I'm not ready to let you go.”_

**NoA:**

Hi everyone!

Did you enjoy this little story? I hope so ^^

Help me improve, if you don't understand something, please let me know.

Thanks to all the readers and for all the kudos <3

Bye!

_Soundtrack:_ **Mercy Mirror, Within Temptation.**

Follow me on[ **Instagram**](https://www.instagram.com/p/B_4pQESIs-2/)!


	9. Like a prayer

{Year 1899; Godric’s Hollow; Gellert POV}

_Set me as a seal upon your heart,_

_as a seal upon your arm,_

_for love is strong as death,_

_jealousy is fierce as the grave._

_Its flashes are flashes of fire,_

_the very flame of the Lord._

(Song of Solomon – 8:6)

_~ Like a prayer ~_

  
  
  
  
  
  


_“L'angelo scese, come ogni sera,_ _  
ad insegnarmi una nuova preghiera.  
Poi d’improvviso mi sciolse le mani,_  
_e le mie braccia divennero ali.”_

Desire, on this clear summer night, burns softly, intensely.

(The air is warm, silvery the crown of stars crackling beyond the black outline of the trees.)

Albus's mouth glides warmly over your skin, studying its sinuous lines, patiently mapping its valleys and plateaus, devotedly exploring its most intimate and hidden folds. A pause, a breath away from your heart – a furrow on his forehead, perhaps to say something _but no,_ there is no need to speak, to ask, and it is not appropriate _– is not wise_ – to linger.

(He knows what he wants, _what you want – always_ ).

You let yourself lie down and he presses himself on you, closes one hand around your wrists – thin fingers, similar to intertwining branches and leaves, adorning pulsing stems, veined with purple –, with the other he tangles your hair, pulls it back, slowly, to steal a kiss, to tear a deep, infinite sigh from your throat.

Pleasure is a _ritual_ , a meticulous and exquisite liturgy of which you are both the faithful followers; your bodies are consecrated Temples, luminous doors beyond which the mystery of the world is revealed – a single touch, a single thrill of ecstasy can enclose the very essence of the divine, the _immortal spark_ inherent in your nature, the enchantment and grace of being men.

_(Of being men together)._

It is in the attention to details – the harmony of an arched back, a lock of hair falling softly on your face, a blue flash behind barely half-closed eyelids – that the wonder and greatness of Creation is manifested, it is in the moans gathered by diligent lips – prodigal, _adoring lips_ –, in the agony of a boundless embrace that lies the secret to being admitted to the presence of the _sublime_.

Albus moves slowly over you, traces a trail of small bites along your chest, buries caresses between your ribs and your taut belly, finds refuge in the moist, welcoming hollow of your thighs. He looks up and stares at you with an intensity that each time shocks and tears you, _terrifies and exalts you_ – he looks at you as if you were an otherworldly prodigy, an apparition, _a miracle_ – _his miracle_.

_(His own, his alone)._

For a few – _eternal_ – moments, you remain like this, motionless, clinging to each other, leaning towards a devouring fire in the midst of whose flames, both of you, yearn to dance, melt, _liquefy_ , with a primordial and wild yearning in the eyes, the unconditional, _glorious_ surrender of who is both supplicant and god.

_(Albus Albus Albus)_

His name is a song of salvation, an ascension, a whispered prayer at the marble foot of an altar – he’s the only seal you recognize, you feel, _you live by_.

_(You accept no other)._

If the Universe has a center – you have no doubt – it’s _here._

(In the unstoppable fury of a last, _white_ gasp).

_“Quando mi chiese – Conosci l’estate? –_  
_io per un giorno, per un momento,_  
_corsi a vedere il colore del vento.”*_

* _"The angel came down, as he did every night,_

_to teach me a new prayer._

_Then suddenly he untied my hands,_

_And my arms became wings._

_When he asked me - Do you know summer? -_

_I for one day, for one moment,_

_I ran to see the color of the wind."_

(translation by me)

**NoA:**

Hi everyone!

Sorry for the delay, I hope you enjoyed this little story 😊

Help me improve, if you don't understand something, please let me know.

Thanks to all the readers and for all the kudos <3

Bye!

_Soundtrack:_ [ **Il sogno di Maria, Fabrizio De André.** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vYgcRtgds4I)

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